


The Monster Within

by Hunted (Sar_Kalu)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha!Janusz Stilinski, Beta!Derek Hale, Derek and Stiles are a thing, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Peter Hale is temporary Alpha, Polish!Stilinskis, Sheriff Stilinski is called Janusz, Stiles is called Mieczysław, Werewolf!Derek, Werewolf!Scott, Werewolf!Sheriff Stilinski, Werewolf!Stiles, argents mentions, author has a bare knowledge of Teen Wolf, beacon hills is overrun by werewolves, brief fic, i'll probably expand later but i want to know what people think first, if you squint? - Freeform, mostly through FFIC, seriously this is a quick fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 14:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14474694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sar_Kalu/pseuds/Hunted
Summary: "Janusz struggled with the feral, wild beast he his inside. Mieczysław revelled in his new found freedom. The difference between man and boy - the ability to adapt to a new, different skin...Janusz can remember the first time Mieczysław had snapped at him over sneaking bacon into their first Sunday breakfast together in three months... Mieczysław’s eyes had flashed vibrant gold and his face had looked wrong, wolfish and hungry. Janusz had snarled back, eyes bright blue, and Janusz never wanted to see that expression of fear on his son’s face again."





	The Monster Within

Months after the incident happened, Janusz Stilinski would stand in the mirror and stare at his face, trying to discern the monster beneath the human façade. Months had passed. Janusz had learnt to count his days by the turn of the moon and the rush of heat that travelled beneath his skin like cats fur running along the underside of the epidermis. Janusz had learnt the feeling of claws pricking at his fingernail-beds and the feeling of his teeth becoming larger, heavier, and more unwieldy for his too-human jaw. Janusz had also learnt to count his son’s heartbeat, both at rest and at wakefulness; Mieczysław had taken to this new life of theirs as easily as a duck to water. Janusz struggled with the feral, wild beast he his inside. Mieczysław revelled in his new found freedom. The difference between man and boy - the ability to adapt to a new, different skin.

 

It had been dark that night. The moon had been bright and full overhead, but the beams of silvery light could barely penetrate the foliage above to the loamy forest floor below. It had been cold. Janusz remembered his his nose had felt bitten and reddened in the night air. Dark. It had been so dark. Janusz could remember stumbling over root and knoll, his torchlight steady as possible as he swept it left and right, searching for the body of the girl that two hikers had found nearby. A brutal killing, the likes that Beacon Hills hadn’t seen in the last two decades. Janusz would remember that being the last truly peaceful night of his life.

 

The stumbling figures of his son and his friend, Mieczysław and Scott, had appeared like wraiths through the gathering mist. Shock and fear had sent the two boys staggering backwards and Janusz had felt his stomach drop to his toes as the two kids tumbled down a muddy, leaf strewn bank. Mieczysław’s scream still echoed in his ears. High pitched. Terrified. The throaty growl that came next. Ice crawling along his skin.

 

The charging stumble that he led down that muddy slope to his son’s aid. Deputy after deputy slipping and sliding after him. Nervous civilians hollering after them. Then the screams. The searing bite in his side as he hauled a great, ravening, black beast of his son and staring into hell-fire eyes that glowed with malevolence and insanity. Jaws had dripped with thick ropes of saliva and Janusz had screamed, as high pitched as his son had, when confronted with a hound brought straight from the fires of hell.

 

The dark of the night became the terror that only children truly know. Hidden under their covers at night with their parents just down the hall and trees scratching fingers against their window pains. Shadows dancing demons against their bedroom walls. Pain. Fear. Rage. Balled up and tangled together. Janusz had fired his gun over and over at the beast that had stood and howled and barked and slavered. His deputies had stood beside him, all of them bleeding and frightened but angry and determined and the beast had run.

 

They were fine: cuts, scrapes, minor abrasions, and nine people that lined up at ER covered in mud, blood, drool, and carrying two unconscious boys. Janusz had railed at being kept overnight for observation, but no one had experienced any ill affects. They were supposed to be fine. Mieczysław and Scott had gone to school. Janusz had gone to work. Melissa had watched and waited, her brown eyes - so like her sons - confused by the apparent rapid healing of nine people from what had looked like a savage wolf bite; _but wolves haven’t been seen for sixty years in California, Melissa, and they were_ _supposed_ _to be_ _fine_.

 

They weren’t.

 

Janusz can remember the first time Mieczysław had snapped at him over sneaking bacon into their first Sunday breakfast together in three months. Real bacon, not turkey bacon. Mieczysław’s eyes had flashed vibrant gold and his face had looked wrong, wolfish and hungry. Janusz had snarled back, eyes bright blue, and Janusz never wanted to see that expression of fear on his son’s face again.

 

The closer they got to that full moon, the stranger things got. Mieczysław had worked it out, what they were, but Scott and Frederick had been resistant. However, no one could deny what they were after that first full moon. The hunger that had overtaken them all. The herd of deer later found slaughtered in the middle of the town park. The howls that had reverberated through the entire town. The strange man with slate grey eyes and thick dark hair that had hunted alongside them - comfortable and graceful in his own skin in a way that Janusz and his deputies could only pretend to be.

 

Mieczysław had found out what they were through hard work and determination; but Derek Hale had confirmed the horror that they would all have to deal with:

 

_They were werewolves_

 

In all the books and movies that Janusz had ever seen, even the stories that his grandfather had told him, stories that had been handed down from his grandfathers grandfather; all of them had spoken of how the transition from man to beast was easy like breathing. Janusz, a man who enjoyed order and structure, found it anything but.

 

Derek was a blessing in those first few months. The born werewolf had corralled them, organised them into a semblance of a pack. Frederick and Scott have given the worst trouble, but when the Alpha had come hunting, even the reluctant duo had sided with Janusz and his son. Standing steadfast and strong while Derek’s world had fallen apart - for the third time.

 

The hunt for the Alpha, Peter Hale, had been swift. Janusz couldn’t afford to let anyone threaten his town, his way of life. There were too many lives at stake and not even a psychotic werewolf with a vendetta was going to run free and wild amongst the populace. Sheriff Janusz Stilinski took his job and his oath very seriously: _to serve and protect_ , and he would. Until his dying breath.

 

Mieczysław, his bright, brilliant son, had come up with the idea of bait. Janusz couldn’t pretend to be happy that he’d come to the realisation that Mieczysław had meant himself, but his son had been named “glorious sword” and it turned out that you had to be careful when naming your children, because they just might act upon their names meanings. Even after you begged them not to; _to stay safe, please, son_.

 

Mieczysław had laughed, his eyes shining with youthful vitality that believed itself immortal and had agreed to be careful but had followed Derek and Scott anyway. Right into the jaws that had changed them all. Into near-certain death. A four month old werewolf teen, armed with nothing more than his fangs, claws, and a surprisingly brutal grasp on sarcasm. Janusz had brought up the rear with Frederick, David, Vera, and Caitlin; his four closest friends on the force.

 

Frederick, the one who had been most resistant to becoming a werewolf after Scott, had been the one to tangle with Kate Argent after the crazed blonde hunter had reset her sights on Derek. Derek had been sensible enough to avoid her. Frederick had not.

 

Sally had nearly died getting Frederick out of the hunters lair. can could still smell burn hair, electricity, and mildew when he thinks about that desperate fight. The barks of pain, the raging roars. Frederick’s howl of horror when Sally had received buckshot of wolfsbane to the belly, her blood staining her white shirt front red. Frederick’s hands had been slippery with it, all that blood. Sally had been saved by Derek, but only just. Kate had been ripped to pieces by Vera and David, a married couple who had three kids, five dogs, and a house on the edge of town. Sally had been relegated to babysitting the kids and Kyle, their youngest deputy and the only werewolf to yet find an anchor within their new pack.

 

Peter had been waiting for them. Of course he had. Kate was dead. Chris and Victoria and their daughter had been run out of town. Mieczysław’s chemistry teacher, Mister Harris had been found strung up by his heels from the City Hall clock tower, Peter Hale staring down from the ledge with a bloody, cruel smile painting his lips.

 

Janusz still wasn’t sure how they survived. It had been close. Mieczysław and Scott had gotten in the way more than they had helped. Derek had been knocked senseless by Peter, who had a thing for dramatic fighting; and eventually it had taken Vera, David and Frederick tag teaming the unstable Alpha for Janusz to wrap his hands around Peter’s neck and rip his head from his spine. Mieczysław watching on with a horrified expression on his face as Janusz eyes burned that hell-fire red.

 

Leaning on his bathroom counter, some seven months after that final battle, Janusz stares into his reflection and searches his gaze for the flicker of the beast within. Mieczysław is downstairs, Janusz can hear him, laughing and jostling with Scott and Derek and Kyle; the three pups of the Stilinski Pack. Vera and David are outside grilling steak on the barbecue and Frederick is flirting with Sally in the kitchen.

 

Janusz can hear them all, his pack. His family. His eyes gleam scarlet in the mirror and Janusz’s lips curl upwards in a smirk. The scent of cooking meat wafts on the breeze and summer is unfurling around them in a haze of golden sunshine. It’s the fourth of July and later there will be fireworks; but for now, Janusz still seeks his monster in his reflection - and Janusz wonders if his wolf was ever very monstrous to begin with. Janusz has always been hungry to protect his own, he has always sought to care and comfort for those he calls his own, and Janusz knows, that wolf or not, he is every bit the man he was before. Janusz thinks he always will be - he’s simply _more_ now. Bigger. Stronger. Better, he supposes.

 

Claudia would be proud of him, he thinks. They’ve come so far, and while there’s still such a long way to go, but for now, Janusz will take his beer, his hard-won steak, and his pack; on a lazy summer afternoon in July.

 

For now, he knows Beacon Hills is safe.


End file.
